A/N: Companion story to "Lily's Light." I will make references to it.

This is a songfic of Severus Snape's various encounters with Harry Potter, using slightly changed lyrics of the song "Lily's Eyes" from "The Secret Garden."

Listen to the song on youtube. Type in: Lily's Eyes-Secret Garden-Anthony Warlow & Phillip Quast

It will give you chills.

He Has My Lily's Eyes

VVV

Strangely quiet, but now the storm
Simply rests to strike again.
Standing, waiting, I think of her.
I think of her…

VVVV

They didn't know I followed them. I was silent as the death that followed my footsteps everywhere I went. I should not be here. If I was discovered, it was the end for me, swift and certain. But I had to see. I had to know the truth. I moved like a wraith through the still Muggle neighborhood, listening desperately for the familiar voices of my old professors.

I heard their urgent murmurs and I drifted their direction, whispering around a tree and peering out into a street that should have been lit by lamps. All the lamps were dark.

Dumbledore was here.

Carefully, I took just two more steps forward, then secreted myself behind a tall bush. I watched as moving shadows invaded the place I watched. And I saw them.

Their faces were not clear, but I could make out their forms anywhere. There strode Dumbledore, emanating the strength of an oak, as always—but bearing sadness about his shoulders. McGonagall strode beside him, fussing like a mother hen. A hen who has just discovered that two of her chicks are dead.

I could not hear what they said. And then their voices were drowned out by a rumbling roar raining down from the sky.

I instantly threw myself to the ground—only to scowl at myself, get up and knock the grass from my robes. It was that dolt Hagrid, riding upon Sirius Black's flying motorcycle.

He touched down with a screech, and dismounted. In his arms was a small bundle. A bundle that looked like—

My hand flew to my collar. My throat closed.

"The little tike fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol," I heard Hagrid say. My hand began to shake.

The half giant passed the baby—the baby!—to Dumbledore. McGonagall continued to protest, and this time I could hear that she did not wish for the little one to live a Muggle life.

I could not move even if I had wished. I watched them, my eyes fixed, as they approached the front porch of one of the Muggle dwellings, and Dumbledore gently set the child down on the stoop.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," he murmured.

I fell to my knees. I wrapped my arms tight around my chest, which I feared would tear apart. My black hair fell around my face, hiding the tears that burned down my skin.

VVV

Strange, this Harry, he leaves the room,
Yet remains, he lingers on.
Something stirs me to think of him.
I think of her.

VVV

I was not old. But I felt it. The terrors and heartbreaks of three lifetimes lived in my memory, and though they had faded during these past eleven years, and been soothed by my return to Hogwarts as a professor, I still heard the screaming in my dreams.

I donned my dress robes crisply, as I did for every feast, and tried not to think of my own first feast. But, as always, those memories persisted.

I left my quarters and strode down the corridors, hearing them ring with distant voices. The castle was virtually abandoned during the summer. I preferred it that way rather than filled with silly first years getting lost while getting to my potions room.

I pushed open the door to the great hall, the golden light of the vast space flooding my sight. Nodding to the professors on my right and left, I took my place at the long front table, and pondered the menu, planning to ignore everything except Dumbledore's opening speech and the sorting of the Slytherins.

The great doors opened. I did not look up. McGonagall ushered in a flood of newcomers—the biggest class so far. They had been getting bigger every year since…

I listened to the sorting with half of my attention. So far, a couple Gryffindors and a Hufflepuff had been selected. And Draco Malfoy, Lucius' little boy, was now a Slytherin. I snorted. Surprise, surprise. I took out my wand to set it on the table, as I was accustomed.

"Harry Potter."

I dropped my wand. It clattered softly on the table, but no one noticed. They had all gone breathless.

Could it be that year already? The year that I had been trying to ignore ever since that night in little Whinging…

I could not see his face. He was already turned and seated on the stool. McGonogall rested the Sorting Hat on his head.

The result was not instantaneous, as I thought it would be. The Sorting Hat seemed to be…arguing with him?

"All right," it muttered. "It had better be…Gryffindor!"

Cheers rose from the Gryffindor table, and Harry Potter got up, hurried down the steps and into the arms of his new house. I could not breathe. And I heard nothing Dumbledore said as he arose to make his speech.

The boy was short, with black hair, a unique mouth and a nose that seemed familiar. But round spectacles concealed what I wanted to see—the candlelight flashed off the lenses as he laughed with his classmates.

And then, for no reason—he turned. He looked straight at me. And twin knives stabbed right through my chest, slashing open all of the healing, every scar tissue and barrier I had painstakingly created during more than a decade.

From death she casts her spell,
All night I hear her sighs,
And now a boy has come
Who has her eyes…

I tried not to clench my hand around my collar. Suddenly, Harry Potter winced, and his hand flew to his forehead. My heart jolted. His fingers pressed over his scar.

The scar Lord Voldemort had given him when he had tried to kill him.

And it hurt when he looked at me.

My gut rolled and I twisted my gaze away from him—away from those eyes I would know even beyond my own death.

Lily's eyes.

VVV

I usually looked forward to my initial potions class with the first years. It was there that I established the essential: students must fear me as they fear their own doom. There was a very simple reason for this, really: it was the only way I could finish a lecture without being interrupted by a thousand questions. Such terror kept it down to about five hundred. Potions isn't easy, after all.

But today…No. Today was not going to be enjoyable. I desperately wanted it over with.

I bashed through the door, my cloak sweeping behind me as I entered the classroom.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," I stated as I ascended the platform. I closed my eyes briefly before whirling around, showing nothing on my face. The room was dimly lit, but I caught the glitter of spectacles. I avoided them.

"As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition…" I cast an obligatory glance down at Draco Malfoy, who smirked. His arrogance irritated me, but I knew what I needed to do concerning him. Taking a breath, I folded my arms across my chest. "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can show you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

The spectacles no longer glittered. And I heard the scratching of a quill. Without my command, my gaze flew to Harry Potter. He was writing. He was not watching me. And unreasonable rage rose up within me.

"Then again…" I began. "…maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!"

The girl next to Potter poked him. He looked up at me.

He has her eyes!
The boy has Lily's hazel eyes,
Those eyes that saw me happy long ago.
Those eyes that gave me life
And hope I'd never known.
How can I see the boy
And miss those hazel eyes?

The pain that almost swallowed me then tore at my insides. I had to respond to it or let it take me. And so the dragon rose up within me—that snarling animal that James Potter knew well. The monster I became when he took her. I took two steps toward him.

"Mr. Potter," I hissed.

He stared at me straight. He did not flinch away this time. My words came with difficulty.

"Our new celebrity."

He frowned briefly. My viciousness rose.

"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The little girl beside him shot her hand up. I paid no attention. Potter bit his lip and shook his head.

"You don't know?" I said flatly. "Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look, if I asked you to find me a bezor?"

The silly girl rose her hand again. Again, I ignored her. Potter shook his head again, keeping his hands folded on his desk.

"I don't know, sir."

His voice was mild, quiet, and even. Merlin. I was going to die.

But I would not let him see that.

"And what is the difference," I pressed on. "Between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

That idiot girl would dislocate her arm before I would call on her.

"I don't know, sir," Potter said again, and glanced down.

"Pity," I said, my voice hardening. "Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?"

Those brilliant eyes blazed.

"Clearly," Potter snapped. "Hermione knows. Seems a pity not to ask her."

The class giggled.

"Silence," I warned, casting a dark gaze over all of them. And then I saw Malfoy—wearing the same poisonous look of disdain and superiority that his father had, all those years ago, when he had knocked the books out of Lily's arms and sent them crashing across the floor. Her eyes had blazed, but filled with tears.

I knew I had seen that fire before.

And now, who of us in this room was the one who truly resembled Lucius?

My fury drained away, replaced by bitterness that galled my throat. And before I knew what I was doing, I moved.

I strode off the platform, past the first row of desks and straight in front of the one where Potter sat.

"Put your hand down, you silly girl," I said offhandedly as I passed her. Turning around, I silently pulled an empty stool from the desks in front, slid it up and sat down directly in front of Potter. He did not wince. I rested my elbows on the front of his desk and spoke in a low voice.

"For your information, Potter," I began. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the draft of the living dead. A bezor is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant which also goes by the name of aconite." I paused. He had not broken my gaze. He had listened intently, wary, but absorbing the information.

"How do you remember all of this, Severus?" Lily ran a hand through her long, ginger hair and shook her head. I shrugged.

"It is easy. I just read."

"But I don't absorb it when I read it. Not potions, anyway," she protested. I frowned.

"Then how do you do so well?"

"I remember it when you recite it to me like that, with such dreadful seriousness," she flashed me a teasing grin, her eyes sparkling like gems. "I choose my tutors wisely."

I mentally jerked myself, realizing the class had fallen into silence, and Potter's eyes were still locked with mine. I broke the gaze, sending my attention across the room.

"Well?" My voice rose. "Why aren't you all copying this down?"

Papers rustled frantically as the class scrambled to obey. Potter did the same. I glanced at the top of his dark head, then arose and headed back to the platform.

He has her eyes.
The boy has Lily's hazel eyes,
Those eyes that closed and left me all alone.
Those eyes I feel will never ever let me go!
How can I see this boy who has her hazel eyes?

VVV

Lily's willowy form had emerged at the top of the staircase. She wore a beautiful, flowing emerald ball gown that set off the vibrant green of her eyes and the rich cinnamon of her hair. A delicate necklace sparkled at her throat, and a dainty silver bracelet encircled her left wrist. Effortlessly, smiling modestly at the admiring gazes all the young men were giving her, she descended the stairs and glided toward Potter and me.

"Hello, Severus," she beamed. Her smile faltered a bit and her voice quieted. "Hullo, James."

"Hullo, Lily." James' face was flushed and he appeared completely discomfited. "You...er...you look really...good."

"'Stunning' is the word I would have chosen," I cut in smoothly. "But as you know, Potter has never been one for linguistics. Shall we?"

"Thank you, Severus," Lily blushed prettily, took the arm that I offered, and together we entered the ballroom.

Dancing took no energy at all—not dancing with Lily. All was a swirl of light and music and Lily's smile. Never once did we misstep or hesitate. Absently, I marveled at myself. Months ago, I would have recoiled at the idea of clasping the hand of a "Mudblood", of wrapping my fingers around her waist. But now—now all I could do was silently command everyone in that ballroom with all of my bearing: "Look at this girl. Look at this breathtakingly lovely girl-and I am dancing with her."

I awoke and stared at my ceiling. I felt cold and listless. But tears ran down my face anyway. Tears I had not felt for years. I had shut off my heart, because the pain of what I had done, what had happened to the Potters, was too much to live with.

But now her son was here. I saw him every day. And the torture was acute. I squeezed my eyes shut, though knowing I would not sleep tonight.

In Lily's eyes a castle
This prison seemed to be,
And I, the bravest knight, became,
My lady fair was she…

VVV

The years did not dull the pain. It only sent it deeper below the surface, and I learned how to cope with it. I watched as Potter grew. I watched as he became the spirit and image of his father. His father, whom I had hated. But every once in a while, on those few occasions that he laughed, I was split with an agony of remembrance of his mother.

He has her eyes.
He has my Lily's hazel eyes.
Those eyes that loved James Potter—never me.
Those eyes that never saw me,
Never knew I longed
To hold her close,
To live at last in Lily's Eyes!

I longed for the day
She'd turn and see me standing there…

Potter aggravated me. But not by anything he did. I was fully aware that my hateful conduct toward him was entirely unmerited. He was a good student. And he had a good heart. I could see that. But being near him caused me such misery that I could never conduct myself with any warmth toward him. I did well if I spoke with mere civility.

But I guarded him. He had no idea how much so. I was certain to take Draco Malfoy under my wing, keeping him far out of Potter's inner circle, so that Draco would know nothing of Potter's life to report back to Lucius. I remained a double agent for Dumbledore amongst the Death Eaters, holding secrets inside me that would cause most men horrible nightmares.

And I saved Harry's life. Quite a few times, actually. Of course, if I have my way, he will never know that.

VVV

Upon Dumbledore's request, I taught Harry occlumency. In hindsight, I should have known something wrenching would happen. But I had little choice. It was either teach him, or let the dark lord take his mind.

And that was notgoing to happen.

Potter, of course, resisted me. Why not? He distrusted me. I dragged him through terrible drills, exercises more difficult and rigorous than I would ever use in a classroom. But I was desperate. And so was he.

But one day I pushed too far. I made him angry. But I was angry, too.

I had seen straight into his mind for several weeks now. If anyone said he knew Harry Potter better than I did, I would laugh. And after seeing so many of his trials, many of which mirrored my own—and realizing with shocking clarity what he thought of me—my heart was too raw for what I saw that day.

I saw him looking into the mirror of Erised, long ago, in his first year. And in its reflection I saw James Potter.

And Lily.

She was looking out at her son with unparalleled affection, separated forever from him, nothing more than a ghost from a memory. She lived in that mirror because she was gone. Because she was dead.

I could not bear it.

I tore into Potter. He did not deserve it, but I could not hold it in any longer. I called his father a swine, battering at this saintly image Potter held of him. I knocked Harry away from me, and moved to drive him through another drill.

But he countered it. And he darted into my mind.

He saw straight through me, directly into the memory that had just been in my mind. The day of my supreme humiliation, when James had disarmed me and pulled off my trousers in front of everyone.

I cracked a mental whip, sending Potter reeling out of my skull. I did not care that his idealistic picture of his father had been shattered. It was now Potter that knew me better than anyone else.

I told him to get out. An apology was on his lips, but I would not hear it. He silently fled from me. I closed my eyes.

Would God have let her stay! Would God have let her stay!

He has her eyes. He has her eyes.
He has Lily's hazel eyes. My Lily's hazel eyes.
Those eyes that saw me
Those eyes that first I loved so!

VVV

Potter's trials continued. The dark lord returned. And for just a few minutes, Voldemort saw through that boy's hazel eyes. The very idea kept me closeted in my chambers an entire day.

But something else brought me out of my chambers the next morning. Potter had fought him. He had banished the dark lord from his mind. Using sheer willpower…

And the skills I had taught him.

And when I heard that, something in my heart—finally—healed.

VVV

Long ago, Dumbledore told me that Potter lived through the curse avada kedavra because of one thing: Lily had died for him. And her love shielded him.

Lily had always possessed a great capacity to love. She had pulled me out of darkness and shame and befriended me. She had shown me kindness, compassion, as I had never known it.

I loved her. Of course I did. And now, the only bit of her left in the world was Harry. Her brave son, with those penetrating, shining eyes.

I could not die for Lily. It was too late for that. But I could, at least, do something for her. I knew I could. If it ever came to it…

I would die for Harry Potter.

How can I now forget
That once I dared to be in love.
To be alive and whole
In Lily's eyes!

FIN